Son of Zor
by VaderTahu101
Summary: In the aftermath of the SDF-1's first fold jump, a previously undiscovered room aboard the titanic battleship is found - and it contains a human baby in cryogenic sleep. However, this is no ordinary child... This fic covers the adventures of the boy known as Mike Lynn and is, for the most part, told from his point of view. Currently rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first fic. Reading so many works on this site inspired me to put my thoughts in writing. I'm good with grammar although not perfect, but I'll try. I am writing this fic freely - it has no pre-written storyline. Most chapters will be somewhere between 1000 and 2000 words in length, for ease in writing. I may come back and update previous chapters from time to time.**

**Disclaimer: Robotech is property of Harmony Gold. I do not own Robotech or represent Harmony Gold's views.**

ooooo

_Where am I?_

_What am I?_

I could dimly see through the bubbles that I was in a cylindrical container filled with a mysterious liquid. Through the container's walls, I could discern a few people leaning over various pieces of strange equipment, working feverishly. Suddenly, one of them spoke, but I had no idea how I could understand her.

"Zor, you must get off this fortress! The Zentraedi warriors need you on the surface to help command them against the Invid!"

The one called Zor turned to her and said, "I know. It is there I shall die, and I will finally be free." Looking in my direction, he spoke again. "I am sorry, my son, but now I take my leave. Always remember me."

With that, he hit a few more controls, and frost began creeping into my container. "Goodbye, my son."

_Goodbye, Father._

The last thing I saw was his eyes, filled with sadness and shame.

As the cold filled me, I was swallowed in darkness.

ooooo

Nine years later...

Minmei's Aunt Lena and Uncle Max were overjoyed. Their niece had been found, and they were given a year-old orphan to care for. Not only that, but the ship's engineers had rebuilt the White Dragon down to the last detail. Now, Minmei was saying they should reopen the restaurant!

"Minmei, I know what you're thinking, but we just can't open a Chinese restaurant when all we have to eat are military rations!" stated Max.

"I know, Uncle, but you kept the White Dragon open during the war!"

"Yes, but we had means of getting ingredients, and we didn't have you or little Mike to feed!"

"Max!" exclaimed a shocked Lena. She knew her husband was angry because he was so close to being able to do what he loves, so she promptly forgave him for speaking of their niece and adopted son in such a manner. But that didn't mean she approved of such thoughts. "We should be happy we have Mike and that Minmei has returned to us! Besides, a restaurant on the SDF-1 would likely improve the morale of the RDF forces. Don't you think so?"

A gleam appeared in Max's eyes, and a slight smile appeared on his face. "Yes... That's a great idea! I'll see if I can get the RDF to provide us with materials!" With that, he dashed out the door.

ooooo

A few months later...

"Captain, we're suffering heavy losses! That enemy battleship is going to destroy us!"

"We need to switch to Attack mode!" Captain Henry Gloval bellowed. The bridge crew stared at him in shock.

"But sir, we'll be defenseless! Even if we do survive the modular transformation, there's no guarantee we'll have enough power to fire the main gun!"

"DO IT!"

"Yes, right away, sir!"

At this, Lisa Hayes opened an intercom channel to the entire SDF-1. "Attention! We are about to undergo modular transformation! It is advised that all passengers head for the nearest safety shelter at once!"

The countdown began.

"...Three, two, one, zero! Begin modular transformation!"

From a viewpoint outside the battlefortress, the shifting from Cruiser to Attack mode was a sight to behold. Armor slid and realigned, major structural components changed shape and position, and the massive booms of the main gun were brought into play. The overall end effect was that of a mile-tall knight from the distant future. The aircraft carriers _Daedalus _and _Prometheus _were its arms. The twin pylons of the main gun rested on its shoulders and were aimed at the enemy battlewagon.

"Captain, the SDF-1 is now in Attack mode," announced Lisa.

"Good. Prepare to fire the main gun!"

Claudia Grant checked her station's indicators. "Uh, Captain, that's a negative. We have insufficient power to fire the main gun, but we can afford the drain necessary to power the pinpoint barrier system."

Gloval muttered a short curse under his breath. "All right, bring the barriers back online, but we need to think of something fast!"

At that moment, the entire ship rumbled, and all screens and instruments went blank. Lisa informed Gloval, "Captain, we've lost all control of the vessel!"

All he could do was shake his head. "May God save us."

ooooo

Rick Hunter suddenly noticed something was wrong. "Vermillion Leader to bridge, Vermillion Leader to Bridge. What's the problem?"

There was no answer.

He repeated his query and had the same results. "Uh oh, this is not good..."

"Whoah, would you look at that?" exclaimed Ben Dixon. "What is the SDF-1 doing?"

All eyes turned to watch the mighty battlefortress suddenly accelerate straight toward the enemy ship with a burst of blue thruster fire. As it approached, the telltale loci of the pinpoint barrier system appeared and converged on the prow of the _Daedalus. _The SDF-1 raised the supercarrier up and... PUNCHED the enemy battlewagon. The aliens had no time to react as the carrier's prow opened and spewed forth thousands of missiles inside the vessel. As the SDF-1 pulled away, the enemy ship exploded in a flash of brilliant light...

ooooo

In the bridge, Gloval started to ask, "All right, what was-"

There was a small flash of blue light up in the glasslike bubble over the bridge, and, of all things, a baby appeared and fell from where the flash occured. A couple of the femal techs on the bridge screamed, and everyone else held their breath - until Claudia leaped forward and caught the child, who was wearing a diaper and a small yellow T-shirt with the RDF emblem on it. At the same time, all systems on the ship returned to normal. Claudia asked, "Hey, isn't this the little boy we found in cryogenic sleep and gave to the owners of the White Dragon?"

ooooo

To be continued...

**Author's Note: Yes, I know that's not actually how the dialogue went in the Battle of Saturn's Rings. Nor is the dialogue amongst the Lynn's similar to what actually happened in the original anime. I just took a few creative liberties with the characters I have "borrowed" and added my writing style so the dialogue doesn't stick out like a sore thumb, to use a horrible cliché.**


	2. Chapter 2

Sixteen years later...

"But, Dad, I wanna be in the Army!"

"Lemme tell you this, Mike: getting into the Army is a sure ticket to sorrow. Find something else you love and do that. Hell, you could start making pizzas here in the White Dragon, if that makes you happy!"

I was most certainly NOT happy, and cooking was getting really old. Seventeen-year-olds just need some ACTION in their lives! "But you, Mom, and Jason experienced space for a long time before, and Minmei and Kyle are out there right now!" I still couldn't believe how my oldest brother and my only cousin (probably almost sister-in-law by then - talk about marrying close!) had abandoned their only other family on a trip across the galaxy, and I was getting a little jealous of such an adventure. But, I could understand Dad's concern: Jason had been killed by Zentraedi malcontents a few years earlier, and Dad still had a hard time about it. And I had really goofed when I mentioned Jason.

"WAR ISN'T JUST SOME KIND OF JOKE! And you were on the SDF with us, too - we even FOUND you in there! You've had plenty of time in space!"

"But I was just an infa - Wait, I thought I was brought onboard the SDF-1 from the Macross shelters along with the rest of the evacuees... Is there something I should know?"

Dad just shook his head and sat down on the couch.

But Mom had been listening, and she decided to tell me. "Yes, dear, there is... Back when the EVA team was leading us into the SDF-1, your father, I, and Jason got seperated from the rest of the group. We wandered around, trying to find a way to where Macross was being rebuilt. In our wanderings, we found an abandoned science lab. You... you were in... in... cryogenic sleep inside a multipurpose chamber in that lab. We also found a radio, and the RDF was ablo to home in to the signal and take us to Macross. They alerted the bridge command about you, and Doctor Lang and his team awakened you from coldsleep. After running over a week's worth of tests, they let us adopt you."

I was speechless. _I'm an alien?!_

At this point, Dad decided to speak again. "Yeah, and you took over the SDF to punch a Zentraedi warship out of Jupiter space."

Mom gave him a look that could silence a Veritech. I just about fainted at this point. But, what Mom said next did the trick:

"At least Commander Grant caught you when you re-materialized over the bridge."

The next sound in the house was a dull thud.

ooooo

When I got out of bed the next morning, my parents were all apologetic. In complete honesty, they told me that as long as I was part of their family, I could not join the Army, whether it be the ASC, REF, or any other military organization. On the other hand, they told me that parents can legally emancipate their children who are over 16, but, since I'm an alien, I could emancipate myself, with or without my parents' approval.

So, I decided to enroll in the Army of the Southern Cross. I felt bad about leaving my parents all alone. No, not my parents; my legal guardians. Especially when they told me I had to tear myself away to do it.

ooooo

Someone thought I had potential, so I was shipped off to become one af a couple hundred students enrolled in the new Academy everyone seemed so excited about.

To get into the Academy, everyone had to have their transfers verified. Which wouldn't have been so bad, except it happened One. Stinking. Student. At. A. TIME! And then,the most embarrassing thing happened: I got into a fight. With a girl. And I LOST! Man, and I wasn't even the instigator of the fight! It was some perv who tried to rub her backside while in "line" to get our transfers verified! I tried telling her it wasn't me, but she proceeded to beat the daylights out of me, with this other guy, presumably her friend, cheering her on. The beatings continued until I, in my infinite wisdom, swore on my honor as an alien of unknown descent using the last of my strength. The girl, a blonde with a puffy hairdo, seemed to second-guess herself and threatened me with injuries best left unmentioned if I didn't truthfully explain myself. Fearing for my life, I told her what I knew of my story, including the part about assimilating my infant self into the SDF-1. I even told her who my adoptive family had been. Her friend was laughing his head off at such a "well-spun yarn," but the blonde herself seemed to be thinking hard, trying to remember something.

"Yeah! I remember now! Dad was there, and he saw the SDF do that diving punch that inspired Gloval to use that trick three more times. The part about it being so otherworldly was supposed to be top-secret, but Dad told me anyway."

That last bit piqued my interest, despite my battle wounds. "And who is your dad?" I asked, trying to convey a touch of jealousy for good effect. I didn't have a dad.

She chuckled and stood a little taller. "My dad is the best fighter pilot in the Universe, followed very closely by Mom. You might connect the doughts if I told you my name was Dana Sterling."

At this I almost saluted, but I was unable to raise my blue right arm to the level of my two black eyes and passed out for only the second time in the chapter.

ooooo

After that, I hit it off pretty well with Dana and her friend, Bowie. I learned that Bowie was the son of Captain Vince and Doctor Jean Grant. He was proud to hear that his late Aunt Claudia kept me from becoming a stain on the floor of the SDF-1's bridge. Later, I was glad to have the two as friends at the Academy, as their unique parentage gave them a knowledge of command structure and I would have failed out of the Academy without their help. But, there was one area where I had them beat, at least by a small margin: mecha training. No, we weren't using real Veritechs and Hovertanks - we "ran the sims," as our instructors said. And run them we did - no other team could beat our high scores on any stage. Sure, we occasionally lost free-for-all matches where everyone is playing and no one has any allies, as the three of us were prime first targets for our wary classmates, but we never lost a single Team Deathmatch. The team that had at least two of our three always won. Which was annoying when I had to face Dana and Bowie at the same time.

Then, after TWO YEARS of nothing but classroom learning, chores, and the sims, we were finally introduced to real mecha. And no one was quite prepared for what happened, least of all me.

ooooo

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

As I walked up to one of the Academy's old training-model VF-1d's with my flight instructor, I was unspeakably nervous. That all changed as soon as I sat down in the pilot's seat. I felt like I had just been reacquainted with an old friend.

"You nervous, Private Lynn?" the instructor asked. Yes, I use my adoptive family's name as my own, except I place it after my christened name. The thought made me wonder for the bazillionth time who my real parents were, if I wasn't just your typical run-of-the-mill clone, that is.

"Not at all, sir," I replied. I rather liked this gruff old flight instructor simply because he was in no way analogous to a drill sergeant. And yes, I truly felt like the epitomy of confidence. I sincerely hoped this feeling would last.

"Then she's all yours," he said, referring to the Veritech.

Before launching off the airstrip, I glanced to either side of me and saw Dana and Bowie. "I guess you two are my wingmen today," I chuckled over the net, earning three "shush"es from three flight instructors and annoyed glares from my friends. I chuckled again as the three of us began picking up speed for an unassisted takeoff.

We hadn't gotten too far off the ground when I had a dizzy spell. When I recovered a second later, though, I panicked - I couldn't see the mecha or even feel the controls!

Instead, I felt the smooth sensation of wind flowing efortlessly past me. "What the..." I heard my instructor say to himself, then over the net: "I've lost Private Lynn - I'm taking over the controls... He just vanished..." There were startled gasps from my friends, and I felt compelled to reassure them:

"It's all right, guys. I'm still here."

My voice sounded a little strange, and I quickly realized why: _I wasn't hearing myself, but my words as my friends heard them over the net, with filters and everything!_

"Whoah, this is weird, guys. I can hear myself over the radio, but not from my own mouth. It's as if I don't have a mouth..."

There were more gasps over the net. My instructor shakily said, "All right, let's continue as planned."

Then I realized something: "Um, sir, I can't feel the controls. How am I supposed to fly without controls?"

I thought I heard Dana snap. "That's it! You've done the same thing with a Veritech that you did with the SDF-1! Try imagining yourself as the Veritech through your flight exercises!"

"Are you out of your mind, Dana?"

"No, but you are."

That earned a snigger from Bowie. "Look out, here comes the possessed VT!"

I had to laugh at that, and groaned at how weird my laughter sounds with filters. "Do I really sound that congested when I laugh?" I then learned that the filters make everyone sound congested when they laugh.

ooooo

"All right, Private... er, 'walk' us through these concrete pillars." And the strange thing was, it really felt like walking - except I was sixty feet tall, made of metal, and had a flight instructer literally in my head. I noticed Dana and Bowie attempting to weave their way though the concrete pillars without touching them, but without the kind of interface I had, they were constantly brushing parts of their mecha against the training constructs.

I, on the other hand, was dramatically jumping around through the forest of concrete striking poses while humming some random spy theme over the net, annoying my friends a little. Throughout the entire exercise, I never touched a single concrete pillar.

ooooo

The days of training trudged past. My classmates all eventually learned of my ability. Some were kinda jealous, but most were a little freaked out. Called me "Shadow." This was because any mecha I flew appeared to be flying itself. They would've called me "Ghost," some explained, but that name had already been taken by a certain infamous fighter squadron.

Then, the day of the first war games came. Each student was randomly assigned a number from one to four and a mecha from Logans to Monsters to hoverbikes with mounted machine guns and everything in between. There were four teams of twenty students each out of the eighty who remained after three years of being culled from the seven hundred the student body originally contained. I looked at my two pieces of paper drawn from the jars and sighed at my mecha of choice for these war games. I would have the honor of piloting a Destroid Monster.

Every multi-pilot mecha being used in the war games had been refitted to operate with one pilot. A Monster typically requires three pilots - one to move the horribly slow and cumbersome thing, and two to shoot. A Monster is covered in all kinds of weapons; some anti-personnel, some anti-air, some ground-to-ground, and a couple anti-ship. This fact means it needs more brainpower than one pilot can provide, and that it is of necessity the slowest mecha on the field and the last to willingly participate in any sort of close-in fighting. It has horrible reaction time in addition to only two speeds: forward and reverse, the latter not recommended because it normally results in the mecha falling flat on its back.

All equipment and clothing being used in the war games were coated with a special substance that would change color to indicate not only a hit by the harmless lasers all war games weapons were refitted to fire, but also what kind of weapon by the specific color. Red meant anti-personnel, orange meant light armor-piercers, yellow meant anti-air, green meant Gatling round, blue meant heavy artillery, and purple was reserved for the big cannons on the Hovertanks. In addition, white meant supplementary laser-array, black meant assault rifle, brown meant handgun, and pink meant machine gun. The substance itself was normally colorless and had just finished development. It was nonflammable, non-toxic, and could be applied from an aerosol can. In addition to having it applied to their gear, each participant received a couple spray cans of the stuff to apply to any shelters they might construct.

The stage for the games was going to be a large unpopulated area of what once was Washington State. Its shape would be roughly square, with a side length of about 20 miles. No player could set foot or mecha down or shoot from outside the stage, but flying outside was allowed, but only for a total time of two hours per participant. Each team would have a flag to defend in the middle of one side of the square. In addition, a neutral flag was located at each corner of the square, and four more were hidden near the center of the square. The objective for each team was to capture and hold all twelve flags for one hour, but the game would end when even one team reached the objective. The game would end in 120 hours if no team had reached the objective by then.

However, score was calculated individuallly, and being a survivor on the winning team didn't guarantee a high score. Powerful satellites would monitor all activity and calculate individual scores based on enemy hits, knockouts, survival time, captures, and even technique. Some rumors went around about guard duty being worth points, but they were probably just that - rumors, started by someone who didn't want guard duty.

Sharing of team number and mecha was forbidden before the games, so I couldn't find out whether Dana and Bowie were on my team or not.

ooooo

"All students and designated personnel to the airfield. All students and designated personnel to the airfield. Loading of transports for the war games is underway. I repeat, loading of transports for the war games is underway!"

A cheer could be heard throughout the Academy. Where I expected to feel anxiety, I was surprised by iron conviction.

_I don't know how, but, somehow, I am going to win these war games, with or without help from my friends!_

ooooo

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

"There it is, grasshoppers! Your home for the week!"

I would've groaned at the Sarge's use of the word "grasshopper," but we were all used to the term, used by Academy staff when casually referring to the students. After the sergeant finished his comment, I looked out the window next to my seat on the transport and analyzed the stage for what was to be know as the First Annual Southern Cross Junior War Games. Of course, there would only be opportunity for one more, but no one knew that then.

The field itself mas mostly forest, with trees about the same size as and at similar spacing to the concrete pillars back at the Academy. Unfortunately, trees aren't all trunk. On the plus side, the forest was riddled with clearings of various sizes. Four flags could be seen just inside the concrete barriers on each side. The barriers marked the boundary of the stage. The flags all had a different color - red for team 1, yellow for team 2, blue for team 3, and green for team 4, clockwise in that order, with red to the north.

Our transport was heading to the green flag. Each team was in a seperate transport, so I only knew who was on my team, which unfortunately didn't contain either Dana or Bowie. Conversation between participants on the transports was forbidden, so there was no way to find out which mecha my teammates would pilot.

We landed shortly at our staging area around the green flag. The mecha were unloaded, packs of equipment and rations were distributed, and the Sarge gathered us to point out our mecha.

"All right. George Wellington has a Logan. McKenzie Batten gets a Hovertank. Howard Esel will pilot that old VF-1..." The list went on. I was in no hurry to have my mecha announced, but I couldn't help chuckling at the two people who were stuck with Hovercycles, whose only weapons were mounted machine guns. "And finally, Michael Lynn gets the group's only Monster. Be glad he got it, and not someone without his ability." This last was to quiet the laughter that resulted from the announcement of my mecha.

I couldn't help adding, "You guys will sure be happy I've got the Monster when I blow up the Hovertank on your six." We all knew that nothing was going to actually blow up, but the survey satellites would assess each mecha's virtual damage and transmit a signal to the pilot when a wipeout would have actually occurred in real life. Failure to immediately leave the stage would result in the invalidation of the pilot's scores and any subsequent actions the pilot might take, such as shooting another mecha.

This drew some angry looks, and a girl named Rachel Parson, who would be piloting one of the new Thunderbirds, retorted, "Well, I'm not gonna let a Hovertank even see me, much less corral me!" This brought some nods from the rest of the team. I just sighed at their overconfidence. I knew their ratings on the sims, and no one on my team but me could best Dana in the Hovertank I just knew she pulled.

The discussion quickly turned to tactics. The plan agreed upon was to send out the two Hovercyclists to find or capture as many flags as possible. They would signal when they found anything by rising above the trees and waving at the three Logans who would monitor their progress. The tac net was reserved for emergencies because no encryption was allowed in the war games. Subsequent groups of at least two of our five Alphas, three VF-1's, and two Thunderbirds would be dispatched upon the cyclist's return to capture any flags that any opposing team had already claimed. The entire time, I and our four Hovertanks would remain near our flag to guard it and provide artillery fire as necessary. I was dubbed "captain of the guard," and Rachel Parson was "strike leader." A set of callsigns was also agreed upon to prevent our opponents from learning who was on our team. These nicknames were all ambiguous, except for mine: I remained "Shadow" as a warning to anyone who dared attack us.

Then, a thought struck me: "What if we could ally ourselves with another team?"

The others scoffed at me. Rachel, who seemed to really hate me, said, "Ha! You just want to gang up with your friends and form your Invincible Trio so you can rack up more points than anyone else!" I really hadn't thought of that, but then I noticed something else: everyone in my group had their clique with them, except me. That could've explained why the thought of alliances was so outlandish.

ooooo

I was getting bored. The cyclists had already returned and left on another scouting mission, and our entire strike force had set out to hopefully take flags claimed by the enemy. The Logans were still on lookout duty (they would also serve to privide coordinates to the artillery). The Hovertanks had wandered off somewhere, and I was left to mantain my vigil from behind a tree near the barrier. I found it strange how I could stand still for hours as a mecha without fidgeting or even sitting.

My motionlessness paid off eventually. I was just about to move to stand behind another tree in a more defensible position when I heard the sound of whipping branches along with the unmistakable tone of Hovertank engines about a hundred yards to the left, heading straight toward me. Without turning the mecha, I saw out of the edge of my vision two red-trimmed Hovertanks in tank mode crashing through the forest in an apparent rush on our flag. That they hadn't fired yet meant they hadn't seen me. That they were an advance force meant one of them was Dana. _Good, my lucky day. _

When they were nearly on top of me, I quickly turned and fired. I caught one of them dead-center with multiple hits, painting it orange, green, and white. The other one, presumably Dana, dodged with amazing reflexes in response to my quick movement. At the same time, she turned her tank's main cannon to bear on me. I cursed my mecha's slow speed and wished it could mechamorph into a more mobile form. Waiting to get covered in purple, I instead beheld the enemy Hovertank pause. I took advantage of the situation and started running away. _Wait a second... Monsters can't run! And how did I just push that tree over with my hands, when Monsters don't have hands, either!_

I looked down at myself and nearly fainted when I saw something similar to Quadrono power armor. I had transformed my mecha into a more desirable shape with a thought! I made note of the Monster's cannons still mounted to its shoulders, with some attached to its new forearms, and the fact that it no longer had space for a pilot to control it.

Dana's voice came over the net: "Mike, what in the world did you DO?" I inferred that she had determined my identity by the lack of pilot. The Logans quickly responded to the break in radio silence and swooped down at Dana, guns blazing. She cursed, shut off her radio, and bolted for the safety of thicker foliage. The Logans quickly lost track of her. I was still marvelling at this new display of my abilities.

ooooo

A little while later, I found the four Hovertanks assigned to my command. They initially panicked at the sight of an unfamiliar mecha, but I informed them of my identity via the mecha's external speakers. They were suspicious at first, but I managed to convince them by imagining myself out of the mecha. With a burst of blue light, I then found myself hanging for dear life to the front of the mecha.

I yelled at my teammates, "Now do you believe me?"

They quickly responded in unison: "Sir, yes, sir!"

I quickly imagined myself as the mecha once more.

I began to speak: "Now, let's return to our jobs before - " I was interrupted by a green-trimmed Thunderbird trailing smoke crashing into me. It was all I could do to brace my feet for impact and extend my arms to catch the Battloid. Even so, I fell on my back with a force that would have knocked my teeth loose, had I had any as a mecha. After re-assessing what had happened, I gently slid the ruined mecha off of me and repaired the minor damage to myself with a thought.

I called out, "Are you all right?" No response from the helmeted figure inside. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

Still nothng.

I reached out and pulled the cockpit module off the Thunderbird. I gently pried it open and carefully lifted the pilot out. I laid the pilot on the grass and imagined myself on the ground next to my mecha. I walked over to the prone figure and bent to remove its helmet. I identified the pilot as Rachel Parson and attempted to wake her with a gentle slap to the cheek.

After a few seconds of this, she groaned and began to rolled over. I grabbed her shoulder to keep her still and asked, "Are you hurt?"

Her eyes snapped open. "Huh? - Ow!" She hissed in pain and held her side. I assumed she had a broken rib or two, but I had to assess the damage. Unfortunately, this would be impossible to do without completely preserving her dignity.

"Could you please unzip your flight suit so I can see how badly you're hurt?" I didn't dare reach out and do it myself.

She sucked her breath in and glared at me with pure hatred. "Get away from me, ALIEN!"

I recoiled from her words. That was why she hated me: she had a case of xenophobia. "Please! You're hurt! I can't help you if you don't cooperate!"

"...Never! ..." She seemed to hesitate with that last word before her head lolled to the side. At this point, my teammates had recovered and were calling the Academy personnel stationed just outside the barriers, alerting them of Rachel's condition.

I placed my finger on her neck. She still had a light pulse. I then sat next to her and waited for the medics to arrive, wondering how someone could crash a Battloid when all weapons in use in the war games were fake.

ooooo

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

The Medics arrived about five minutes later. In that time, Rachel hadn't stirred. I had been beginning to worry. All of us Academy students knew basic first-aid as one of our required courses, but I didn't want to help Rachel just to have her wake up and kill me. I decided to let the professionals handle that.

The Medics flew in on their own little airbus. They unloaded a stretcher, gingerly transferred Rachel onto it from the grass, and loaded her on the airbus. One of them walked up to me and asked, "Why didn't you help her? I know you students learned first-aid."

"Because I would have done so againster her wishes," I sighed. The man just looked at me funny and hopped into the airbus, which promptly flew off.

Then, I noticed most of our team had gathered around. The other Thunderbird pilot worked up the nerve to say to me, "Uh, Shadow? You're the only commander left on our team. What do you want us to do?"

ooooo

The situation didn't look good. Our team had lost one Hovercycle, one Logan, three Alphas, one VF-1, and Rachel Parson's Thunderbird. We were left with one Hovercycle, two Logans, two Alphas, two VF-1's, one Thunderbird, four Hovertanks, and a mutant Monster. The two Alphas were still guarding the flag in the corner south of our main staging area. Our team had reported knockouts of three enemy Hovercycles, two Logans, an Alpha, and two Hovertanks. Seven lost and eight taken - not as good as I would have liked.

I decided on a new plan. I would lead a mixed group on a march through the forest in Battloid mode in an attempt to take out as many enemy mecha by surprise as possible. This group would consist of me, our two VF-1's, and two Hovertanks. The Hovercycle would run messages between the assault group and the rest of the team. The remaining mecha would find good hiding spots and defend our main flag. The two Logans and the Thunderbird would occasionally make recon sweeps of the area from the air near our flag.

The rest of the team got my idea, but there were some grumbles and a few complaints from the Hovercyclist about constantly dodging enemy fire. I had to remind him that he wouldn't get shot down because this was all just an elaborate game.

I finally had the support of my team. All that was left to do was act. Bob Harper, the Hovercyclist, took off to find the two Alphas guarding the flag in the corner south of us to alert them of our losses and the change in plan, and I led my little convoy due east, straight into the heart of the warzone.

ooooo

The plan started out well. I took out a yellow Logan that had strayed too far west with a burst of anti-air fire, and Bob Harper returned with news of the two Alphas. They had suprised a strike force of two blue Hovertanks and eliminated the enemies. This brought our team's total kills to eleven.

However, things quickly went downhill. I heard a snapping branch several yards to the left and yelled over my external speakers, "Take cover!"

I leaped forward into the brush. The Veritech to my right didn't fare so well. He received a large purple spot to the left side of his cockpit and flew out of the arena in compliance with the rules. I jumped back to my feet and faced our attacker, but the red Hovertank had shifted to Battloid and run away.

"Oh, no you don't!" I growled to myself, chasing the Hovertank that I knew to be piloted by Dana Sterling.

I kept my guns trained on her, letting loose with everything I had, but it was hard to aim while running. Dana managed to hit me with a couple lucky backward-fired green shots, but they hit the angled parts of my armor and would have caused no damage had they been real Gatling rounds.

She finally lead me straight to - her team's flag! I went berserk, shooting everything I had at anything not forest. I didn't wait to see who I took out, though, as I was still enraged and intent on hunting down Dana. I dashed through the clearing, too fast to be hit. I caught up with Dana at the barrier, where she quickly turned around to take me out. I fell for the move, though, and jumped out of the way of the guns on the Hovertank's right arm, only to be grabbed by the left and THROWN over the barrier. Time seemed to slow for me as I sailed through the air, frantically recalling as much as I knew about a Veritech's thrusters in an effort to add them to my mecha and save myself from disqualification as a result of touching the ground outside the stage. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for an impact - that never happened.

I opened my eyes to find my mecha had acquired thrusters on its feet and back. I shouted in triumph and turned back toward Dana - only to find the weapons of a half dozen mecha pointed at me. I couldn't shoot at them from outside the barrier, but they had no such inhibitions. I dodged their shots, barely, and rocketed over the trees toward where my convoy waited.

By this time, night had fallen, and we called it a day. My team hid their mecha and fell asleep. I, on the other hand, didn't need sleep as a mecha, so I stood guard the entire night.

ooooo

Nothing happened until right around 0600, when my teammates were just beginning to stir.

In my silent vigil, I wasn't moving at all and had no lights on. I had stacked branches around myself while the night was young to disguise myself from anyone who felt like shining a light in my direction.

Anyway, I noticed something moving fast from the east. Upon closer examination, I determined it to be a Hovercycle with its lights off, navigating in the dim light of the moon. Since it was coming from the east, I knew i wasn't one of ours. I silently lined up a shot with as little movement as possible and fired, striking the little mecha head-on with a burst of simulated Gatling fire. The poor pilot didn't know what hit him - all he heard was the signal from the satellite saying he had been knocked out. He shined a light on his mecha, cursed at the green spots, and sped out of the area. I saw yellow trim on the Hovercycle when the rider turned on the light and sighed, relieved that I had hit an enemy and not a friend.

The light and the rider's voice woke up my teammates. In a couple minutes, light began to shine on the eastern horizon through the trees, bringing with it - the sound of several mecha crashing through the forest from the north and southeast! Needless to say, my teammates ware alarmed and scrambled into their mecha. With the rising light, I saw mecha of all three primary colors - red from the north, and a combined group of blue and yellow from the southeast. Apparently, teams 2 and 3 had formed an alliance. But who would team 1 support: us, them, or no one?

I didn't feel like aggravating the situation by attacking, and I quietly told my teammates to wait. The other two groups apparently hadn't noticed us, and I intended to keep it that way as long as possible. Jumping between two quarreling miniature armies was not my idea of strategy. Team 4 would strike only after the other three teams had worn themselves out.

Unfortunately, Dana had other ideas. She yelled out from somewhere, probably behind a tree: "Bowie! Listen to me! Mike has used his ability to transform a Destroid Monster into a shape that can fly, move quickly, and still outgun any of us! He took out half our team in one pass! We need each other's support - " I decided this had gone on long enough. I gave a signal to my three teammates, and we opened fire. My first volley had only one target and was the first to break the ceasefire. I nailed Dana Sterling with enough firepower to bring down a squadron. My teammates quickly followed my lead.

I heard Bowie yell, "Scramble!" from a blue Hovertank and lead his troops away. Even so, my teammates and I managed to bring down three more reds and four each of blues and yellows. The pilots we had defeated shot us angry looks and promptly zipped away. I was disappointed to hear that Bowie had escaped unharmed.

I guessed I had eliminated seven reds in my attack the previous day, bringing our team's kill count to FORTY. I also guessed there were only three red mecha left. Based on this last conclusion, I called in my teammates at our staging area with a message sent by Bob Harper. We spent the rest of the day hunting down the rest of Team 1 and claiming their flags.

During this clean-up duty, I noticed the respect my teammates showed me. I detected a certain amount of awe in their voices and eyes when they spoke to me. It was nice to be important, but...

I couldn't have felt more alone.

ooooo

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Managing twice the area with less troops proved quite challenging. This was especially true because I wasn't sure the Hovertank I had taken out the day before was really Dana. I never saw the pilot's face.

These thoughts began to worry me so much that the others noticed. Bob Harper asked me, "Sir? Is everything all right?"

"Sure, Bob. It's just... it's that I'm not sure we got Dana. I mean, she could have been hiding, and I took out the lead Hovertank... If she escaped, she could have met up with Bowie and kept out of the way of our clean-up operation."

This seemed to worry Bob, too. "Sir, if I may suggest, it might not be such a good idea to let the others know about this. It might cause a panic."

I hadn't thought of that. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

I then returned to the act of assigning guard posts. The thought of attacking had completely slipped my mind.

ooooo

I barely caught myself out of sleep. Even if my body didn't need rest, my mind did. I was sitting on a rock next to a stream at the northeastern corner of the war games stage, my mecha hidden under a pile of tree branches and fallen leaves. I checked my watch. _Where is Bob? He was supposed to alert me of changes over two hours ago! Something's not right here..._

I got up and merged with my mecha. The effects of being tired wouldn't bother me as much while a mecha. I set out towards the old red flag to my west. On the way, I took out a yellow Alpha that didn't see me. Something really wasn't right if a yellow was out that far...

I cautiously approached the clearing with the red flag. The flag itself had a green spray-painted "x" on it... and a blue one over that! The blues had taken the flag back! I carefully skirted the clearing to the north, passing the spot where Dana had flipped me over the barrier, to get a better look at the clearing. I gasped at what I saw. I had been right! I saw a red-trimmed Hovertank just as it was exiting the clearing to the east, the direction I had come from. Good thing I had gone further north... Dana was probably heading for the flag in the corner that I had been guarding, reinforcing the yellow Alpha I had taken out.

Still in the clearing were two blue VF-1's. Where was my team? I decided to continue west.

ooooo

The northwestern flag was guarded by a Logan... with blue trim. I dispatched it with a single Gatling round through the trees. I re-colored the banner just in case, and I ventured south, toward my team's original flag. Surely, someone from my team was still in the game! I didn't hear the Hovercycle approaching the flag from the east as I left...

ooooo

I approached this clearing even more cautiously than the others. Where was everyone? The clearing seemed to be unoccupied. I was angry at the sight of a blue "x" over the green flag. Since the coast seemed clear, I approached the flag to re-color it... and a dozen mecha leaped out from the brush around the clearing! How had they found me? I decided to leave the question for later, as the clearing was suddenly filled with near-invisible laser bolts. I juked and dodged, using my thrusters at times, taking several glancing hits and returning fire when an opening appeared. I managed to take out all of them but one - a familiar red Hovertank. I realized Bowie wasn't among the eleven retreating just as a pair of blue-trimmed Hovertank arms encircled me, pinning both my guns and my arms in a downward-facing direction. "Got you, Mike!" I heard Bowie say over the net.

"Ha! How does it feel to know you failed at the last instant! Bowie and I are the only participants left, except for you. And you almost got us!" Dana said, taking aim at my head with her Hovertank's main gun. "Say goodbye!"

Before she could fire, though, she and Bowie were nailed with several green and white spots. All three of us looked up in astonishment to see a green-trimmed Thunderbird in Guardian mode soar over us and land a few yards away. "How... We got all of you, except Mike! Who are you?"

The Thunderbird's canopyslid open, and its pilot stood up. The pilot took of the flight suit's helmet to reveal... Rachel Parson, her identity given away at a distance by her shoulder-length blonde hair. I asked over the external speakers, "Rachel, I thought you were hurt! And they took you out of the arena!" I exited my mecha and began walking to her Thunderbird. Dana and Bowie mechamorphed their tanks and hovered off.

"I came back to thank you. The techs analyzed my old Thunderbird's wreckage and found its power core had failed. A couple minutes after the crash that resulted, the built-up power surged through the mecha... and would have killed me. Without your help, that is. I'm sorry for the way I treated you." She gingerly climbed down from the cockpit, hiding her face for some reason. Apparently, she hadn't fully recovered.

"But... Why do - did - you hate me?"

She finished her descent and looked up at me, apparently flustered. Now that I noticed, she was actually rather good-looking. "It wasn't your fault... My family was killed in the SDF-1's jump to Pluto, leaving me an orphan. I knew your history and resented you because of your involvement with the fortress and how it killed my family... And you yourself got one..." She started sobbing and lowered her head again.

I moved close and wrapped my arm around her back to comfort her. She didn't pull away, and I concluded that her old feelings for me were gone. Instead, she lifted her head, and I saw something in her tear-filled eyes quite the opposite of hatred...

"And that concludes our First Annual Southern Cross Junior War Games! This year's winner is... team 2!" The speakers of an approaching transport rudely interrupted the moment.

My first thought was, "We won! Haha! We won!"

Rachel looked at me funny and said, "Of course not, silly. We're team 4. Team 2 has held all twelve flags for the past hour, so they won. Or at least ended the game. In fact, you probably won, with your mutant mecha!" Laughter filler her eyes, and she hugged me. I was caught off-guard by how good it felt... "But now the transport is here to take us back. Shall we load up our mecha and get out of this cursed forest?"

I could only agree.

ooooo

On the ride back to the Academy, Rachel and I sat in seats next to each other, away from the rest of the group by our request... or rather, Rachel's smoldering looks. We discussed our lives, holding hands all the while. I told her of what it was like to grow up in the shadow of Lynn-Minmei, Miss Macross herself, and my older brother, Lynn-Kyle, the unbeatable martial arts expert. I explained it wasn't all bad, as I learned how to cook Chinese food from the best chef in the world and could eat as much ofthe food he made as I wanted.

And Rachel told me of what it was like to grow up as an orphan, stuck in a house with a bunch of mean kids and given barely enough food and worn-out clothes. She told of how she would have to fight to get her meals back from the bullies who stole them, and how she saw the Academy as a blessing, a way to escape her tormentors and make a name for herself.

"All right, grasshoppers, vacation's over! We've landed at the Academy!"

Everyone dashed off the transport towards the mess hall. Rachel and I followed, although at a more leisurely pace, still holding hands. Let the staff puzzle out what to do with my mecha.

ooooo

To be continued...

**Author's Note: I have no reviews yet... Please, tell me how things are going with this fic! I know it's a little unbelievable, but I just hope it's not cheesy. XP**


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